And Ashes
by Saro
Summary: SasuNaru. Yaoi.--Sasuke couldn’t remember the last time he was so self-conscious with a sword; he’d trained for years with them. The weapon should have been part of him, something essential as a hand or a foot or an eye. Now the accustomed grip felt clu
1. One

This is a sequel to my oneshot, Smoke In Spring.

Warnings: Blood, violence, and a big, fat, bolded **angst**. Also, yaoi.

Pairing: Naruto/Sasuke. Yes, really.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, its characters or world, and I'm not making any money off this.

**And Ashes**

One

Sasuke couldn't remember the last time he was so self-conscious with a sword; he'd trained for years with them. The weapon should have been part of him, something essential as a hand or a foot or an eye. Now the accustomed grip felt clumsy in his hand. He caught himself holding it too tightly, and consciously eased up. Even when his mind told him his grip was flawless, looking at Naruto bowed before him and waiting for the blow, it felt foreign. Unbalanced.

"It has to be an immediate kill," Naruto said.

He was kneeling, knees pressed into cold, bare dirt of the Hyuga training field. A seal marked the ground around him in an elaborate ring intended to control the Kyuubi if it lashed out. Naruto didn't _think _that it would be able to attack with any strength immediately after losing its vessel. But he didn't know. None of them knew. Everything was guess work at this point.

Neji and Hinata had arranged the space for them so they would be away from the rest of the village, just in case. And so they would have what little privacy they could afford at this point. Ten pairs of white eyes, all of them belonging to disciplined shinobi, were better than dozens of gawkers.

Naruto's ruddy tan skin, yellow hair, and blue eyes stood out vividly against the drab yard. His voice was husky and warm, like a breath of late summer in the cool air. "Anything less will heal."

Licking his lips, Sasuke nodded.

"Make sure to burn the body immediately. I don't know how well the seal will hold, and it might try to leap into a new body if it realizes it can't heal this one."

"I know. It's already planned."

Naruto drew a deep breath. "Is the pyre ready?"

"Yeah," Sasuke told him. The words were broken glass in his throat.

"You won't let them near right? Promise me."

He nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. "I promise."

"I worry about them," Naruto said by way of explanation, or maybe apology. Sasuke wasn't sure he could tell the difference at this point, but the sentiment wrung a harsh chuckle from him.

Naruto grabbed his wrist. Sasuke's eyes snapped open, and he drew back instinctively, surprised. The other's skin was feverishly hot against his own. "I worry about you, too. Don't turn your back on me."

"I won't," Sasuke agreed reluctantly. He could hardly breath around the words. They'd been over this before. Fuck, but they'd beaten out every last tiny detail. They'd discussed every possible thing that could go wrong.

They all knew what was at stake.

"Don't hesitate. I'm not sure that... that I'll die as easily as I should. Be ready, in case. Don't hold back."

Sasuke's grip tightened again. His knuckles whitened, and his hand threatened suddenly to cramp.

Bright gaze pinning Sasuke, Naruto said grimly, "Whatever you do, don't hold back."

"I know," Sasuke snapped.

Naruto paused a long moment, eyes tilting up, corners of his mouth dropping in an ominous scowl. Then he sighed. "Make it quick. Please."

It hurt. Dear god, how it hurt - as though someone were gripping his heart in their hands, as though he was being pressed on a wheel. He hadn't expected it, couldn't remember if it had felt like this when he'd threatened to kill Naruto before.

Was that proof he had lacked the conviction to follow through?

Sasuke was all too aware of Sakura watching him, and Jiraiya, and the Fifth, mixed into the small knot of impassive Hyuga that stood some thirty feet away. Sakura's fixed, tired stare was the worst. He felt more than naked.

He felt exposed in a way that was more than physical, like they had caught him in some intimate moment.

"I will," he whispered. He didn't want the others to hear it.

Naruto's face relaxed fractionally.

Sasuke turned his mind inward, stilling himself, and looked for the cold part of him that let him kill someone without provocation. The exercise was harder than it should have been. Eventually, though, his hand found the right way to hold his sword, so metal and bone lined up naturally. His arm was steady; his breathing, deep and regular.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Naruto closed his eyes. The line of his shoulders was strangely loose. Naruto's chin dipped in acquiesce. He was ready.

Sasuke took a deep breath, then circled to stand behind the other man. It was only the two of them within the seal. Sasuke fought to narrow his world to just that. Just them.

He picked a spot just above the prominent curve of the lower cervical vertebrae, where Naruto's hair fell to the sides, revealing his neck. Marking the spot in his mind, he took his stance. He wanted to take Naruto's head off in one stroke. They'd agreed that would probably be the best way - quick and efficient. A sense of gravity settled over Sasuke. This was happening. Even if the ground opened up to swallow them, they couldn't stop now.

In a way, it felt like it was already done. Sasuke's mind just hadn't caught up yet.

Naruto should have had someone else do this, someone who could be clinical about it.

A breeze picked up, stirring Naruto's hair, tugging at their clothes.

One.

Sasuke turned on foot out. He coiled, tensing in the legs, and in the shoulders.

Two.

Naruto took a deep breath - Sasuke imagined he felt the change. Still, he didn't look afraid. The bottom dropped out of Sasuke's stomach.

Three.

He moved naturally, reflexively, stepping forward and bringing his sword around in a silver arc for an instant kill. The blade hit flesh and sank in. The sensation rang up Sasuke's arm, familiar as coming home, even when it was his best friend taking the blow. It was quick. Quick enough that Naruto couldn't have reacted if he wanted to; quick so that Sasuke didn't have time to realize the nausea that gripped his belly as warm blood splattered up his arm and across the ground.

One stroke.

Naruto's body swayed unsteadily. It hadn't hit the ground before a wave of scorching red chakra washed out, strong enough to take Sasuke's breath away and force him back a step. The smell of fire and musk filled his nose. The pressure of a mind, so old and alien as to be unrecognizable, staggered Sasuke. His sword fell from his suddenly numb hand.

The ground seal that surrounded them flared to life, shifting and glowing pale green. They strained to hold the fox. It rushed over Sasuke as it filled the confines of the seal. It clawed at him, needling his skin. The air was so hot, he wondered how his hair and clothes didn't combust. The chakra crawled into his ears, sounding like wildfire. It lay on is tongue, a strange flavor, like burnt cardamom and cloves.

He felt it try his mind and body, looking for a way in. He grit his teeth and called his own chakra. His strength was meager by comparison, but it pushed the red chakra back a little. Red and black swam at the edges of his visions.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Kyuubi's power ebbed. Sasuke was left breathless and dumb while the Hyuga rushed forward to carry away Naruto's body. Sasuke fell to his knees, struggling to focus. He tried to look away from the splash of red on the dirt, but it kept dragging his eyes back. The red was too bright against brown, sharp in the grey spring light.

oOo

The funeral was a tense affair. Naruto was cremated less than an hour after he died.

Sasuke watched with his friend's blood still tacky on his hands. His stomach seemed like lead. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Naruto would open his eyes at any moment. But his head wasn't attached to his shoulders; his forehead protector had been artfully laid over his neck to disguise it.

Sasuke had seen many corpses before, and the emptiness that normally marked them was conspicuously absent in Naruto. If only the proof of what had shared that body hadn't been so undeniable, Sasuke had wished vaguely as he stood there. He didn't leave until the ashes were collected. They were buried outside Konoha, and a makeshift shrine built over the site. A more permanent structure would come later.

Most of the village turned out, many wearing weapons discreetly under their mourning black. They stood in ranks by clan, or by their place in the military. Sasuke stood to the side - face freshly painted, and somehow insubstantial. Like whatever made flesh and bone was firmer in his old comrades than in him. He had no place among them. There wasn't a row for the Uchiha, nor for missing nin.

Sakura spoke. She looked dazed as she faced the crowd. The scent of incense smoke mingled that day with the smell of raw lumber and freshly turned earth. Sasuke could still smell the perfume soaked wood of the funeral pyre.

It was a quick, confused ceremony, and it left Sasuke unsatisfied.

oOo

Three days later, the sweet and resinous smell still lingered. The flowers were wilted, and shed petals on the altar in front of Naruto's photo.

"I guess you really were my best friend," Sasuke addressed the picture. The words were surprisingly hard to say. "I have the Mangekyou Sharingan."

Wind blew into the small shrine, carrying the rain with it. Icy drops stung where they hit Sasuke's bare arms. A draft tugged at his hair. The photo was wrinkled from the moisture; no one had thought to make sure it was better protected from the elements. Naruto grinned from his picture, eyes narrowed to bright crescents, teeth showing. The expression was familiar. Naruto looked like he knew something the photographer didn't.

Sasuke cleared his throat. "I feel like I should thank you or something."

Looking away from the picture, Sasuke wondered why he'd come. "I'll be leaving soon. I still have to find Itachi. Besides, I don't have a fucking clue what to do here. I think Neji wants to kick my ass. Maybe you should have had him be your second. I don't know. And Sakura… It's awkward." He swallowed hard. "To say the least."

The wind tickled the back of his neck, plucked at his clothes. Wind chimes clattered somewhere in the distance.

"I don't expect I'll be coming back. Even with the Mangekyou Sharingan. Not that it matters, as long as he dies with me, I don't really give a shit."

The chimes jangled. The wind snaked down the back of his shirt, tickled his nose with the smells of the forest and the new shrine. Faintly, scorched earth and spice. Sweat broke on his back, cold and warm at once. The taste of ashes was heavy in his mouth.

His gaze returned to the picture reluctantly. It fluttered in the breeze.

"I thought it would be polite of me to say goodbye, since I don't suspect I'll see you again. I'm not going anywhere good when I die, that's for damn sure."

The rain sounded like a rapid drumbeat against the roof of the shrine. Sasuke drew four sticks of incense out of his pocket, arranged them on the altar before Naruto's picture, and lit them as reverently as he could manage. Spirituality had never been his way.

Sandalwood and pine, both distinct in the cold forest air. He continued, watching to smoke rise in languid swirls, "I'd like to believe you're somewhere good, but somehow, that doesn't seem likely either.

"You'll be here for quite awhile, if I'm any judge."

It would be mid spring soon, but the forest was still bare with winter. Early flowers pushed through the thick banks of leaf mulch. Red buds mottled the trees, and bright new growth stood out against the bluish needles on the evergreens. Mushrooms and daffodils spotted the ground with brown and yellow.

"It's not a bad spot. Even if it's not the one I'd have picked for you."

The skin between Sasuke's shoulders itched. The forest was old, and the weight of that age pressed down on him. The fox was there, hiding in it. Sasuke knew enough to know that, and even if he hadn't, the display when Naruto died would have convinced him.

It was weaker, reduced to a mere fraction of its strength, but for a beast that had been around for over a thousand years and was treated as a force of nature, even death wasn't insurmountable.

Sasuke wished Naruto had been wrong. The proof of his accuracy was too plain in the atmosphere of the small shrine to deny, though.

"One could hope for better company, too," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Could be worse." The words were almost heard just inside his ear, more aural memory than sound.

Sasuke closed his eyes, his throat tightening uncomfortably.

A sudden heat brushed his back, tempting him to turn. It ruffled the short hairs on his neck and prickled his back through his shirt. Sasuke gasped sharply. He tried to ignore the feel of it, keeping his eyes on Naruto's picture. He should leave. There wasn't anything left to accomplish here. He probably shouldn't have come here in the first place.

Fighting down a shiver, he crossed his arms protectively across his chest. Hair fell into his eyes.

Rain and wind filled Sasuke's ears with a queer kind of silence, drowning out the smaller sounds. He gritted his teeth. He felt someone watching his back. The sensation was eerie: not quite threatening, not yet, and not quite human either. Like ants crawling down his spine.

"Goodbye."


	2. Two

Warnings: Blood, violence, and a big, fat, bolded **angst**. Also, yaoi.

Pairing: Naruto/Sasuke. Yes, really.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, its characters or world, and I'm not making any money off this.

**And Ashes**

Two

Sasuke had started using cosmetics during his time serving Orochimaru. He probably would have turned to them eventually, anyway. The ritual, more than anything, appealed to him. Today, the same colors went on in the same bold strokes as they had yesterday. After so long, he knew himself better with the paint than without it. He preferred himself that way. He outlined his eyes with kohl, brushed shadow over his lids, and gave himself a critical look. The liner on the left was thicker than the right, he decided. Evening them out resulted in darker eyes than he'd worn in years. Sighing, he stared at the mirror a long moment. The heavy black made him feel like a teenager again. After quick consideration, he washed his face and reapplied the eyeliner to a less dramatic effect.

He finished his lips in a rush, washed his hands, and wiped down the counter and the sink by habit. He packed away the makeup last, giving the guest suite he had stayed in a quick scan before he left. There was no hair in the drain, no towels forgotten in the hamper. It looked as though he'd never been there. The mirror was clean, free of streaks and toothpaste stains. The toilet lid was down. To the best of his memory, everything was exactly as he found it.

Shouldering his belongings, Sasuke shut off the lights and locked the door behind him. He left the keys under the mat.

Outside, rain fell in a thin, gritty veil. Yellow became pale grey in the soft light. Dark blue turned black. Green and red stood out in lurid contrast against the dingy white sky and brown earth. The damp air immediately chilled him through his cloak. Sasuke leaned into the rain, tilting his face to keep the water from melting his makeup, and stalked toward the North Gate.

As he walked, he planned.

The first step was the simplest: leave Konoha.

There was something about the place that made his teeth ache. It was like, he searched for a comparison, like eating savories after living on survival rations for too long. He knew he ought to like it, but somehow, it just made him feel vaguely sick. He'd always been near by, but he'd been hidden. It was different when people knew he was here. It dredged up old memories that he'd rather stayed forgotten. But aside from that. Aside from the pointed silences, the suspicious looks and guarded gestures; ignoring the pain he saw in Naruto's friends, and the blank disbelief. Aside from the fact that no one seemed sure what to do with him - should they be welcoming him back, or hurrying him out the nearest gate, or maybe hanging him from the nearest tree?

Aside from that...

Aside from that, Itachi wasn't here, and wasn't likely to be returning without Naruto to lure him.

The road was slicked with mud under Sasuke's feet. He knew the way without looking up. Nothing had really changed. The village was the same as it ever was. He knew where the trees lined the street as it turned toward the market, and where the kids played near the bridge. He knew the hawkers voices, and the ringing of bells near the shrines, and the sound of music coming from the bars. He knew where you could smell curry, or squid, or ramen. Gritting his teeth, he kept walking, and hoped that no one would try to stop him.

After leaving Konoha, things would get trickier. There was no saying what resources he'd have to work with, or what direction he should go. It wasn't like his older brother would leave him a trail of bodies to follow back to his lair. Sasuke laughed grimly. Oh no, that would be too easy.

The second step would be reconnaissance. Once he was out of the shinobi village, there ought to be an Akatsuki presence. He inferred that the group had informants. It also stood to reason that if they could be hired, they could be contacted. Anything he could uncover about them stood to lead him, in the end, to his brother. Up until now, he had sought them by looking for what they looked for. Power.

It was time for a new method.

First, step one. The rest would follow from there.

"Sasuke!" He nearly smiled, sly and humorless. This time he doubted she would try to convince him to stay; doubted she'd offer to go with him.

He waited for her to catch up, not even looking. Her footfalls were nearly inaudible, even on the mud. She stopped perhaps a hair over three paces behind him and to the left. He wondered if he should turn to face her. In his mind, she was suddenly thirteen again, with choppy pink hair and shaking hands.

"Sakura," he said, acknowledging her presence without banishing the memory of the girl the woman behind him used to be. His own voice was deeper than it had been back then.

Hers was fuller, more adult. "You're leaving already?"

"I can't think of any reason to stay," Sasuke told her honestly. "And I have things to do."

She made a noise in her throat, like an abbreviated laugh. It was pure disbelief. "You have things to do. I see. So that's it?"

"Unless you can think of something else, I suppose it is."

"You know, he was right about you. You are an asshole," said Sakura. The girl in Sasuke's mind turned her face away from him, eyes sparkling and cheeks wet. The woman's voice was steady though, and dry. "I don't know why he wanted you to..."

"To?" Sasuke prompted. Better that she should get it out now. Better to let her remember him as the bastard who left than some broken, romantic prince.

There was a long, pregnant pause. She moved, her clothing rustled faintly, but she didn't come any closer.

"That's all?" he asked, finally.

"I suppose it is," she agreed. "I suppose it is."

Still without turning, Sasuke walked away. He imagined Sakura biting her lip as she considered chasing after him for a single, crazy moment, but it was probably wishful thinking. She had probably out grown him years ago. He almost wanted to look back, just once, to see. He held the image of the girl, though, not ready to let it go.

"You know, he promised to bring you back," she called to him, after he thought she'd said her last.

He paused a minute, and this time, Sasuke did smile. "Goodbye, Sakura."

And that was it for step one.

oOo

Aoyama was sixteen miles down the high road and a world away from Konoha. Built at the crossroads of two of the Fire Country's largest trade routes, it was a thriving mass of inns and bars, casinos and banks. Roads leading into it were perpetually clogged with traffic. The toll gates at Aoyama were some of the busiest in the world, and made the headman of the city more than comfortably rich. Contrary to the name, there wasn't a mountain in sight.

Sasuke could have found another way in easily. Instead, he stood in line behind a thin, grey-haired woman.

The woman had a cigarette hanging from her lip, smoke scenting the air with tobacco. There was a child with her; Sasuke guessed her grandson. He was quiet while she warned him about the dangers of the city. Sasuke kept his ears open while he waited, and heard everything she said. "Stay by me, and don't wander. Don't trust strangers. Stay away from bad sorts. Keep an eye on the money I gave you, because you're not getting any more."

Behind Sasuke was a man with a cart full of hides. The tannery smell mingled unpleasantly with the smoke.

"Show the customs officer your passport when we get to the gate. Hold it up so he can see it. And don't lose it while we're in the city! Do you remember what I told you?"

"That bad people want to steal my passport," the child responded dutifully. The woman nodded her approval.

Rain was still coming down in a mist. It had saturated Sasuke during his walk. Water dripped from his hair, and down the back of his neck. His feet were cold, though he'd kept the dirt off his pants. He shook his head, snorting in an attempt to clear his nose.

The man behind him shifted closer. The wheels of his cart made a disgusting, squelching sound as he rocked it forward in the mud under the general din of voices. Casting a half-hearted warning glare over his shoulder, Sasuke could see more people gathering behind them as the line milled forward.

"Straighten up," the woman said, finally pulling her cigarette out of her mouth and giving the kid a scathing once over. "Don't talk back while we're here, you got that?"

The boy nodded solemnly. He looked around seven.

Then the line surged forward a few steps before sticking once again; people crowded closer to one another the nearer they came to the gate. It was a strangely tiring rhythm. Beyond the woman and her cigarette and her boy, Sasuke heard complaints from a pair of mercenaries looking for work. Further back, a wagon driver cursed with sapped enthusiasm. There was another wait, followed by another lurching step forward.

Eventually Sasuke pulled into earshot of the gate. He breathed a sigh of relief in spite of himself. The dim spring light was already getting thinner, washing the world in a deeper shade of grey.

The second step had begun as soon as he took his place in line, but so far, there wasn't much to learn. Once he got inside the city, he'd buy a newspaper and find a room in the right part of town.

"Papers?" Sasuke heard the customs officer demand. A moment later, they took another step forward.

For the moment, the right part of town would probably be the wrong part of town. He built a list of places he would try and the characters he'd play there. He doubted they'd hold up to much scrutiny, but for the moment they shouldn't need to. It wasn't like he could actually hide from Itachi, if Itachi were looking for him. These disguises would be for smaller fish than his brother.

There were one or two people at least he could meet, for a beginning. At least one person here owed him a favor.

Sasuke showed the customs officer a passport with the name Fuyugawa Youshi and paid his toll. The officer - a balding, bony man - told him that his passport didn't allow him to conduct business while in Aoyama. If he were caught, he would be arrested and tried. Sasuke promised that he was in town on personal affairs, and allowed himself to be ushered through the gate.

Once on the other side, the crowd opened up, allowing room to breathe. The air was heavy with the smell of food and wood smoke from stalls that crowded near the gate.

Breathing in deeply, Sasuke weaved a path that veered south and somewhat down hill. The businesses that lined the street became poorer, more patched and obviously worn as he went. Shingles gave way to plank roofing and corrugated metal. Paint faded and peeled away, revealing bare wood. Lighted signs shrank. Their bulbs burnt out. They flickered more and more often, neon and fluorescent spent. The anemic lights reflected off glass windows and leaden puddles.

The buildings that hemmed the street pressed in closer, and it seemed to get dark faster as awnings blocked the sky. The banner hanging in the fronts of bars and restaurants looked dirty in the gloom.

On a street that was little more than an alley, Sasuke found what he was looking for. The little red sign said, "Lottery Tickets Available." The narrow door was wedged at an odd angle between a butcher shop and a pachinko parlor. Once upon a time, the whole building front had been vibrant red - flakes of it still clung here and there. Noise from the pachinko machines poured out of the parlor, spotted with the exclamations and grumbling of the gamblers. Electronic jingles and curses.

Sasuke walked past the parlor and pushed open the small shop's door. A bell tied to the door _tinged_, announcing his entrance.

The man behind the counter jumped nervously at the sound.

Sasuke schooled his face to indifference as he raked the man over with his eyes. He was about Sasuke's height, but the way he held himself made him seem smaller - stoop shouldered and nervous in a way that wasn't consistent with his appearance. His eyes were narrow, dark greenish, and set at a sharp angle in a square face that might have been handsome once, but had started sagging and creasing in a way that wasn't rugged. His cheeks had the sort of permanent five o' clock shadow that no amount of shaving ever quite got rid off.

His eyes darted about a moment, before finally meeting Sasuke's.

"Hello, Saburo," Sasuke greeted him. "It's been, what? Two years?"

"Two and a half," Saburo told him, and his tone implied that it wasn't nearly long enough.

Sasuke took another two steps into the shop. The door swung shut behind him, bell clanging. Two more steps, and he was at the counter. The shop was narrow - the wall on one side was close enough to touch. On the other, a row of cigarette and drink machines crowded the small space. He stood in front of the counter, and Saburo behind it, and he looked down at the other man as he slouched sullenly.

He watched Saburo, unblinking, until he Saburo asked, "What brings you by?"

"I'm looking for someone."

There was a pause. Saburo was considering whether or not he really wanted to ask the next question. It was only a matter of seconds. "Someone in Aoyama?"

"Could be anywhere," Sasuke said truthfully.

"Then why are you here?"

Brushing his damp hair back from his face, Sasuke fell more deeply into the persona Saburo knew. Stoic, intense, and utterly implacable when provoked. Sasuke hated to admit where the inspiration for this personality came from. "That's not something you have to worry about. Don't worry; I'll tell you everything you need to know."

The lines bracketing the older man's mouth deepened. "Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"No."

Saburo snorted. "Good. So what do I have to know?"

"That if he finds out you're looking for him, he'll probably kill you. Or worse," Sasuke stated flatly.

"Somehow," Saburo said, "that doesn't surprise me much. What else?"

Sasuke told him in small words, using short sentences. The person he was looking for was named Itachi. He was a criminal, and a member of an elite organization. They were all missing-nin. They were notable for their clothing, and for their sigil rings. Sasuke scraped his explanation down to the bare minimum. When he was done, he said, "Itachi looks like me, but five years older. His hair used to be longer than mine."

Saburo's skin greyed. "Should I ask?"

Sasuke let the corner of his lip kick up just a little. "No." The expression seemed to frighten him further.

Satisfied, Sasuke leaned back. Saburo breathed deeper without Sasuke crowding his space. "I'll be staying at the Blue Mountain Hotel," Sasuke told him. "Ask for Youshi."

The man nodded, resigned. Sasuke left after that. He planned to check into the hotel next. He probably wouldn't be able to find his other contacts until tomorrow at best, and he had some letters to write. After he had a chance to dry off, he would go out again, he thought, and he pondered who Youshi would be. Once he was dry, once he had a chance to gauge the city and spotted the right people, he would have a better idea where to go from here. Once he had more information, he could possible start to formulate a plan.

But for now, he was still working on the second step.


	3. Three

Author's Note: See first chapter for warnings and pairings. Re-uploaded chapter, since absorbed some of my formatting.

**And Ashes**

Three

Looking in the mirror, Sasuke balked. He knew who Youshi had to be. It was painfully obvious that he needed to be someone people opened up to. He needed to be someone people would talk to, someone you wanted to trust implicitly. Someone nothing like Sasuke himself. His makeup had faded while he traveled, but it was still dramatic - all dark lines on powdered white skin. He washed it off, but even naked his face was wrong. His eyes were wrong. His mouth was wrong. The way his features composed themselves resting was still too closed, too angular.

His jaw tensed as he studied himself, only making the effect worse.

No. This would never do.

With a conscious effort, he forced his face to relax, still scrutinizing. His jaw unclenched, and slowly, he managed to unknot his cheeks. The sensation was odd, even though he'd done it before. He did this every time he created a new personality. It was harder to release the tension in his brows and around his eyes. The tightness there was habitual. It pulled the corners of his eyes up. It threatened to furrow between his eyebrows. Once upon a time, Naruto had described it as looking like he was always just about to develop a really spectacular headache.

Sasuke flinched at the memory, lining his forehead and creasing the edges of his mouth.

Keeping Naruto's face in his mind, he forced his own lax. Eventually he achieved his goal. And as always, the result was disconcerting. Somehow, after looking too long, with so little expression, his face looked strange. Like it was somehow reduced to its component parts. It was just a jumble of features. Not good or bad. Just there.

Youshi, he thought at first, would have open, easy eyes. That alone would be a problem, though not insurmountable. Sasuke had inherited the Uchiha eyes. They would never be anything but narrow. But with the right makeup and the right expression, they could still look young. He experimented, opening his eyes just a little further than was natural, and planned how he'd outline them. Not much. Enough to tell he was wearing makeup, though. Red, he thought. Red, no matter how well applied, looked like stage makeup on him. But Youshi might enjoy that. He might not realize that he was undermining himself with that color choice.

Sasuke tugged at the skin around his eyes, memorizing how each position felt. Then he tried to find them again without his fingers. It was a slow process, but worth it. Illusions could be seen through or dispelled. Orochimaru's second skin was an option. He'd seen it used, as he'd seen most of his old master's techniques, but it presented its own difficulties - not the least of which being a convenient face to steal. What was more, in some circles that would be far more incriminating than a mere illusion.

Dealing with the mouth should have been easier. He'd leave it unpainted and smile. The smile should be lopsided, kicking up higher on one side than the other. It should show teeth. A smirk, but one that might change to a grin.

He tried it carefully. Then frowned, sighing.

He started over again.

After hours of practice, then careful application of cosmetics, he finally had a look that satisfied him. And looking at it hurt, like a claw wedged just under his heart and tearing a tiny hole.

The memory of an incongruous warm breeze tickled Sasuke's spine as he looked at himself in the mirror: black hair, mussed; black eyes, wider than they really were, and red-shadowed; smiling as amiably as he could mange. His empty stomach sank. His throat was tight. It was a success, and he was almost certain he was going to be sick. Naruto, the Naruto who had been his teammate when they were still children, would have laughed at him, Sasuke was sure. Then he'd have gotten angry when he learned who Youshi was modeled after.

Sasuke wasn't sure what the Naruto who had asked him to assist in his suicide would do.

Sasuke's expression faded away. His lip curled into a vaguely nauseous expression to match the twisting in his belly. He looked even younger that way.

Suddenly, his makeup bag fell off the side of the sink and snapped Sasuke out of his reverie. He shook off his nerves and bent over to pick up the spilled containers. When he finished, he zipped the bag and set it aside, then cleaned up the mess he'd left at the sink.

He was being silly, he told himself. Silly, and sentimental.

There was still a job to do.

oOo

It was late, but Sasuke wasn't ready to sleep yet. He exchanged his own clothes for something less subdued, more in line with what a kid would think looked intimidating - something black, and too ornate not to interfere with his movement, but not unserviceable. Checking his reflection one last time, he found it hard to take himself seriously.

With a last deep breath, he left the hotel. The hall was dark. Sasuke walked silently. Not even the night desk clerk noticed him leaving.

He felt strange; people looked at him on the street, and he knew what they saw. It wasn't anything knew, but this character made it different.

Sasuke forced a smile for the few passersby. He was tempted to look at his face in the dark windows he passed, to make sure he'd gotten the expression right. Tension built between his shoulder blades. The back of his neck prickled as though he expected an attack.

When an older woman smiled back, it reassured him slightly. But only slightly. Putting more energy in his step, he waved to her.

She laughed drunkenly and waved back.

Sasuke could almost hear Naruto laughing at him, too. The sound in his mind was the older Naruto, the one who'd called him to his balcony and kissed him while he asked for death. He imagined a tried, wry humor to the laughter. His smile became harder to hold.

Sometime between leaving his room and seeing a light still on, Sasuke decided what he had to do.

Summoning Naruto's brash, friendly voice to mind - his childhood voice - Sasuke approached the light. He brushed aside the banners over the door and ducked inside. The establishment was small, barely wider than a hall, with four booths and a dining bar. Other than the washed out, middle aged man reading a magazine behind the bar, the place was empty.

"Excuse me," he asked unapologetically. "Are you really still open?"

The man looked up from the glossy photo of an actress and measured Sasuke with his eyes, then shrugged. The man's face was hard, rough hewn, his cheeks pebbled. It wasn't the face of a man who should be serving food. "The sign's up, isn't it?"

Sasuke smiled; his natural inclination was the opposite. He remembered that voice. "Well, if you're open," Sasuke said, "could I get some tea? And a menu?"

"Menus on the counter," The man said, turning away to fetch the tea. Sasuke took a stool, plucking a battered tagboard menu out of a metal clip. The entrée list wasn't long, but Sasuke wasn't really hungry anyway.

"Here."

"Ah, thank you." Sasuke took to tea. He cupped it in his hands rather than drinking it. Heat soaked into his cold hands. Breathing in the steam, he steadied himself. "What would you recommend?"

"This time of night?" The man returned to his magazine, turning the page. His attention wandered aimlessly over the new spread. "The kitchen's closed, so everything been sitting for awhile 'xcept the stew. I'd say pie."

He tapped the page thoughtfully, then the corner of his mouth kicked up a little. "This time of night, pie is always the right choice."

Sasuke took a sip of his tea. The rain picked up again outside. He could here it. "I don't really like sweets."

"Don't like sweets, eh? Whoever heard of that? What do you like?"

"You know," Sasuke said after a pause, "I'm not really sure." He scratched the back off his neck, hoping it looked like a nervous gesture, and kept smiling.

The man made a thoughtful sound. "Then I guess I'd say the soup."

Sasuke took another sip. Then he asked cautiously, "What kind of pie is it?"

"There's pecan, but if you don't like sweets, that's definitely not for you. Other than that, peach."

"Peach pie," he repeated, making a thoughtful sound. After a moment, he made up his mind. He knew the expressions; he remembered how they felt, what he was supposed to be. He set down his tea, and slapped the table with energy he didn't feel. "Alright then, boss. Peach pie."

The man smiled when he brought back the slice of pie with a scoop of ice cream on top.

"Heh," Sasuke noised, eyeing it. "I'm Fuyugawa Youshi, by the way. Are you always open this late?"

Laughing, the man told him that, no, he wasn't normally open quite this late, and he introduced himself. They talked while Sasuke ate, and afterward while he drank another cup of tea, until the man's wife came down from the apartment upstairs to get him.

Sasuke paid his bill and waved as he left.

And afterward, he leaned against the wall and let his hands shake.

oOo

Sasuke woke to the sound of rain, steady and soft, beating against his window. It was still hours short of dawn, and his room was dark. A clammy draft moved across his skin where it wasn't covered by blankets, chilling sweat on Sasuke's skin. He'd dreamt, but the memory of his dream was already fraying. A smell like sulfur stung his nose; it faded, wrapped itself in the stink of garbage from the alley.

Every sense strained to identify what had disturbed him. He kept his breathing slow and even. His own heartbeat was steady in his ears. Other than that, there was nothing. The room was empty. The breeze was cold.

Sighing, Sasuke rolled his eyes and pulled his blanket up to his neck, then rolled onto his side. If there was nothing there, then it was far too early to be awake.

The wind picked up outside. Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut, unable to close his ears to the whistling and moaning. Rain hit his window in a sharp percussion. The wall groaned in a sudden gust. A crash, then another - ceramic tiles breaking on the street after the wind tore them off the roof.

Then, abruptly, there was something in his room, and the draft was warm, and sweat slicked Sasuke's body. Every nerve buzzed warning. Every hair stood on end.

Contempt, thick and hot as blood.

Sasuke shuddered, bolting upright in his rented bed. A kunai was in his hand, and he didn't remember reaching for it. He'd activated his Sharingan, and presently scanned the room for any trace of red chakra.

Nothing.

And the room was empty.


End file.
